A Wraith Like Them
by The Sherlocked Phan of Bag End
Summary: The famous incident with the Nazgûl at Weathertop from 'The Fellowship of the Ring' told through the eyes of Frodo Baggins.
1. Part One

**Greetings all! This is just a short fic (probably about two or three chapters) about the events at Weathertop, but told from Frodo's point of view. All reviews appreciated and I hope you enjoy it! :)**

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**A Wraith Like Them  
****- Part One**

I awoke from a dreamless slumber to see Sam, Pippin and Merry happily frying bacon and tomatoes over an open fire, in plain view of anyone who could surround Weathertop. I couldn't believe they'd be such fools! Yes, they were hobbits, but so was I, and I like to think that I would have had more common sense than to light a beacon that called to our enemies! They thought that I was worried about them not having saved me any of their midnight feast; it hadn't even occurred to them how vulnerable they were making us.

Even as I was busy stamping out the fire and yelling at them, I knew that it was useless. They were coming – I knew it. I could feel them approaching through every fibre of my body, like a chill that slowly spread throughout me, emanating from the small, seemingly harmless ring around my neck. They were calling to It, and It was trying desperately to answer them. I couldn't stop it; It grew heavy on Its chain and the urge to put It on and let them find me was so strong…I could barely resist it.

Of course, the others had seen the Nazgûl by this point too, and were looking around and calling for Strider in a panic. I could hear Sam calling my name and I think that he even grasped my shoulder, but I didn't care anymore. They were calling for It so hard that It was starting to burn a hole through my shirt, and gradually through my chest. I couldn't concentrate on anything else. It hurt so much – why shouldn't I give It to them? At least then I would be rid of It, and would it really be so bad if Sauron had It? All that Gandalf had told me came rushing back to my head, but I wouldn't process it. Nothing else mattered apart from It at that moment. Perhaps the Nazgûl and Sauron would appreciate my giving It to them, and would give me some kind of reward. That would stop the other hobbits acting so high and mighty all the time. I didn't care what happened to the others, as long as It was safe. I couldn't lose It, It was too precious…

I was jerked out of my sick fancy by the sound of my friends unsheathing their swords and forming a protective circle around me. I could hardly believe what I had just been saying to myself! They wanted the Ring to be destroyed just as badly as I did, and it was the most horrible feeling in the world when It started to take me. It was the Nazgûl's influence – I knew that – but it was still a horrific feeling, because I couldn't stop it. I just needed to be strong, something that I was finding difficult already. I needed to pull myself together and face the Nazgûl with a strong heart, shoulder to shoulder with my friends.

I unsheathed my pathetically short sword from its scabbard, feeling as though I should be able to take on the world, but…then they called to It again. A piercing screech that cut through all of us like a Morgul blade itself, but especially through me. It strained to answer them, but I was determined that I wouldn't let It take me again. Not this time.

Our hearts went cold when we saw the five of them coming towards us from all angles. Or, more accurately, coming to It, and me with It. I saw my three friends each tossed aside like ragdolls, and then they were coming for It. The largest and darkest one unsheathed a long sword that must have been at least my height, and approached slowly, calling for It all the while. And I did the only thing I could.

I put It on.


	2. Part Two

**Thank you very much to my reviewers on Part One, and to my guest reviewer. I can't PM you, but hopefully you are reading this, and so I offer my thanks and services to Gondor! *bows low Pippin-style* Erm, anyway…sorry if that was strange…I hope everyone is finding the story okay! I realised that this story will probably end up about four chapters (or maybe even five), depending on how descriptive etc I am when I write them :)**

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**A Wraith Like Them  
****- Part Two**

They were glowing white, almost blindingly so, and strangely beautiful. The wizened faces of what had once been Men looked back at me and they called to It gently, willing me to hand It over to them. Contrary to what I had originally thought, my thoughts weren't invaded by the desire to give It to them; instead, something far more frightening happened. The Ring itself was actually reaching out to them, against my will, and it took all my strength to try and stop It.

I couldn't stop watching them, the Ringwraiths, feeling something almost like pity in the depths of my heart. They all wore crowns on their heads, and their faces were old and pained, as if they had seen many winters and been treated none too kindly throughout them. I thought of what Gandalf had told me – the inscription on the Ring – _Nine for the mortal men doomed to die…_

There were nine Nazgûl, and I supposed that these were the nine who had been given the Rings. I wondered how long they had lived for – all seeing their own kingdoms fall at the hand of the Rings, and never resting until they had It back for their master, Sauron. The biggest and saddest looking wraith of all was reaching out to It, talking to It in a language that I could not understand, and It continued to strain against my full strength so that it could find its way back to Its master. I didn't want to let it go to them, but It seemed to have other ideas. The Nazgûl and the Ring were almost touching, it was no use trying to fight it any more…

Just before I could let myself succumb to the Nazgûl and let them have It, I had a sudden surge of mental strength. What was I doing? I couldn't let Sauron have It before I had got It to Rivendell, as Gandalf had requested! I had to get It to Gandalf, and then he would know what to do with it. The least I could do was obey his orders, and I couldn't let all my friends down! Sam, Pippin and Merry could never forgive me, and I couldn't do this to them. Even to Strider, who I barely knew…but I couldn't let Sauron have His Ring back just because I was too weak-willed a hobbit to stand up to the Nazgûl.

With all my strength, I wrenched It back, away from them, and cradled it into my chest. The wraiths drew back angrily, and their chant and murmuring lost its lilting edge and became pure, unadulterated hate for me, and lust for It. The largest one still had his sword unsheathed, and he slowly and deliberately came towards me; I was trapped against the wall and had nowhere to go.

Even if I had, I couldn't seem to move anyway. The Nazgûl's presence and the close call of almost losing It was sucking the strength out of me, and I remained frozen to the spot as he continued to advance, bending down and wielding his sword ominously. Shutting my eyes and gritting my teeth, I prepared for what I thought would be an agonising pain that would come from an ordinary sword wound…but nothing prepared me for what I felt.

He plunged his blade deep into my left shoulder, and for a moment I felt nothing. But then it came – what felt like thousands of tiny insects gnawing at my shoulder, burning and consuming it from the inside out. He kept his sword in there a few seconds longer than necessary before pulling it out with a satisfied look on his face, sneering at my agony. I thought I could hear his voice in my head:

"Soon you will know the pain that comes from rejecting Sauron…" he hissed in his deep and yet quavering baritone voice. I wasn't really listening anyway; I couldn't focus on anything apart from the horrific pain in my shoulder…

I was vaguely aware of a figure appearing out of the seeming blackness and brandishing a flaming branch at the Nazgûl. Strider! Of course, he must have heard the commotion and run to help! But then why wasn't he helping me? I was crying out from the pain, and then I realised.

I still had It on. The two sides of my head began to war with each other: one side screamed at me to take it off, you fool! The other side begged me to keep it on and follow the Nazgûl, and I couldn't choose between sides. A few seconds passed in crippling agony while the two sides sat in perfect equilibrium, and then my reflexes kicked in and I took It off.

I uttered the loudest and most inhumane scream of my life as I came back to reality. My shoulder was burning a hundred times more intensely, and I was sure that I couldn't bear it. Not only was the pain in my shoulder there, but although I couldn't see them anywhere, the Nazgûl kept on talking to me, begging me to join them, and my vision was turning blurry.

"Frodo!" said a voice next to me, and I could just make out Sam through the haze. Sam, dear Sam. What would I ever do without him?

"Oh, Sam…" I whispered, and he took my hand firmly, trying to keep me with him, although I could already feel their voices getting louder in my head and my shoulder burning all the more.


End file.
